by Michelle Fox
“No. I don’t joke. It confuses things and I don’t want any misunderstandings.” He cleared his throat. “I brought you here because I need your help.”
I glared at him. “You always ask for help by drugging and kidnapping people?”
“If that’s what it takes. In my business, we aren’t shy about incentives.” Frankie’s eyes met mine, remorseless as a python that had swallowed a baby.
Business? What business? Ah crap, was this guy like a mobster or something? My stomach sank at the thought. I looked at Frankie again. The gold bling, the accent, the thick chest hair that even his shirt couldn’t contain. He looked Italian and he acted like a mob boss.
Well, shit. Did I have all the luck or what?
Frankie kept talking, “Listen, your boyfriend, Blake is a problem and he needs an incentive, which is where you come in.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I wasn’t sure how I even felt about him just then, either. Had he known they were coming and run anyway? I hoped not.
Frankie shrugged. “Semantics. The point is, the guy has the hots for you and I need you to make sure he shows up somewhere.”
“You think he’ll listen to me?” I gave him a skeptical look.
“Sweetheart, there are legions of men who would follow anywhere your tits led them.” He outlined an hourglass with his hands. “God spared no curve when he made you.” He leered at me then and Clark joined him.
Ew. I hugged myself tighter and refused to meet their eyes. “I barely know the guy.”
“That’s even better.” Frankie smiled, pleased with himself. “It means he’ll still be interested. You’re forgetting he asked you to come to Morocco. He wants you and he’ll go where you say. Trust me, I’m a guy. I know how these things work.”
“Uh-huh,” I said sarcastically. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”
“That’s the problem. You see, I already did.” Frankie shook his head. “He said no and he’s been too slick for me to arrange a face-to-face meeting. That’s where you come in.” He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “Here’s the address. He needs to be there at midnight four days from now. You tell him to go, he’ll go.”
I took the card and looked at it. The address was French. Rue Chateau something. “What if he turns me down?”
“You’ll make sure he won’t.” His eyes went cold as a shark’s. “By any means necessary. Remember, he wants you. Use that to our advantage.”
I swallowed. “This is crazy. You’re crazy.” I felt like Alice, but instead of Wonderland, I’d crossed into Mobster hell.
Frankie ignored my outburst. “Here’s a phone. We’ll be in touch.”
At Frankie’s nod, Clark handed me a slim iphone. I looked at it, idly noticing it was the latest model. No expense had been spared to coerce me. “Why do you need Blake to be there?”
"Let’s just say he owes me."
I frowned. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”
Frankie shook his head and waved a hand, the diamond in his pinkie ring gleaming. "Curiosity kills more than cats, sweetheart. Careful you don’t ask questions with answers that are bad for your health.”
"What am I supposed to say to him?” I turned my hand palm up, feeling helpless. Everything seemed so nebulous. I couldn’t fully grasp what I was supposed to do or why.
He stabbed the air with a meaty finger. “You say and do whatever it takes to get him to that address. Or...” He trailed off, his baby blues narrowed at me with an implicit threat.
“Or what?” I prompted, boldly meeting his eyes. I might be afraid, but damned if I would show it.
“Blake’s got one chance to make things right or," he made a gun with his finger and thumb, "we'll take matters into our own hands."
I gulped, under no illusion that a gun wouldn’t just as easily be turned on me. Shit. Frankie played for keeps. How had Blake gotten mixed up with this guy?
The plane slowed to a stop and a flight attendant appeared from the cockpit. A bottle blonde, she wore a tight skirt and even tighter blouse, unbuttoned to reveal her cleavage. She also didn’t seem bothered or surprised by my presence. Like her boss always kidnapped people and flew them around. Just another day working for a mob boss, I guess.
Her spiked heels thudding in the thick carpet, she sashayed over to where we sat and announced, “We’re almost ready to deplane, Mr. Abruzzo.” She bent over slightly, giving Frankie a view straight down her shirt.
He smiled.
She smiled.
Clark looked jealous.
I made a gagging noise that no one seemed to notice.
“Perfect.” Frankie winked at the attendant and twisted in his seat to watch her walk back to the cockpit. Even Clark joined in and I couldn’t help but watch myself. The woman did have a nice ass even if she was depraved enough to aid and abet her boss’ various crimes.
When Frankie was finally done leering, he turned back to me. Touching his eye and then pointing at me, he said, “We’ll be watching you, Ruby. Don’t try anything funny.”
“Don’t go to the police either, not unless you want to end up in jail,” Clark added.
I snorted, unimpressed by the threat. “You’d be the ones in jail, not me.” Actually, going to the police wasn’t a bad idea. Or...a thought struck me, what about the US Embassy? They would take me in, right? Maybe I could find a way out of this. But what about Blake? If I cut and run that left him hanging. Could I leave him to die?
“Don’t be so sure about that.” Clark waved his passport at me. “You’re missing one of these, which means you’ll be entering the country illegally. That carries a fine and time in the local clink. And this is a Muslim country. You don’t want to be accused of a crime here.”
Frankie nodded. “They don’t listen to women here. Especially women who break the law. They’d lock you up so you couldn’t run from a bullet.” He stared at me for a long moment, letting that last threat sink in.
I shivered, suitably impressed now. “Point taken.” I would skip the police then and go for the Embassy. As for Blake, well, I would figure something out.
He thrust a wad of bills at me. “Good. Here’s some cash for your expenses.” Frankie gestured to Clark. “Get her purse, will you?”
Clark went to a small closet at the front of the plane and returned with my purse, handing it over to me. I dropped the thick roll of money and the phone into my purse and slung the bag over my shoulder, going through the motions on autopilot. I was dizzy with the surreal turn of events.
It had all started so innocently: The Cirque D’Amour was just supposed to be a job. All I had to do was sew, right? Yet somehow I’d taken on so much more. Who knew working as a seamstress could be so dangerous or go down such dark rabbit holes?
I sighed and rubbed my temples. When I’d visited Lilli in the hospital, just before I’d been kidnapped, she told me she thought Blake was worth the trouble. I wondered what she would say now.
Thinking of her made me realize she was back in the States waiting for me to pick her up and start our road trip to California. Would she even know I was gone? Would anyone think to look for me? My mom and I barely stayed in touch. I had no other relatives. Lilli was pretty much my only friend. From a distance, my life appeared bleak and empty.
I looked at Frankie, grimacing at the sight of his squat frame and shifty eyes that could emit innocence like he’d retrofitted a switch to turn it on and off at will. He was my only way back home. The thought did not reassure me.
“So what happens when I bring you Blake?” I asked, my voice terse.
“We’ll fly you back home. First class,” Frankie said. His answer was so pat and neat and brimming with over-the-top sincerity that I doubted he meant it.
“And Blake? Are you going to kill him?”
Both men just looked at me with blank expressions on their faces. My stomach churned until acid burned my throat. When I’d slept with Blake it was because I’d
wanted to fall in love. Instead, I’d somehow ended up in the middle of a dangerous game I didn’t want to play.
Finally, with a cheerfulness that came off as creepy, Frankie said, “On the contrary, we’re giving him a chance to save his life.”
“All clear to deplane, Mr. Abruzzo,” came the flight attendant’s voice.
“All right, it’s show time.” Clark gave a little bow and swept his arm toward the now open jet door. “Ladies first.”
Chapter Eight
I stepped off the plane and inhaled the surprisingly cool air. I’d expected Morocco to be as hot as a blasting furnace, but it was actually mild, like a cool Spring day back home in New York. The men followed me off the plane and herded me along. At Customs, Frankie passed around more wads of cash and no one blinked twice at my lack of credentials.
I looked at the officials with wide, pleading eyes, but they only saw the money. No one noticed the way Clark and Frankie hustled me along, each man grabbing one of my arms to control my movements.
Once I started to say something, but before I could form any words Frankie’s hand pinched my elbow so hard, I yelped.
“Don’t get creative, that’s a good way to get hurt.” He gave me a little shake. “Besides, no matter where you go, I have friends you don’t want to meet. Cross me and you’ll be looking over your shoulder the rest of your very short life. Understood?”
I straightened and nodded. “Understood.”
Outside of Customs, they let me go. “This is where we part ways, sweetheart. Blake’s here somewhere waiting for you and it wouldn’t do for us to be seen together.” Frankie did that thing where he pointed to his eye and then at me again. “Don’t forget, we’re watching you. Be a good girl.”
I glared at both of them as they melted into the bustling crowd that packed the airport. Even with them out of sight, I still felt twitchy between my shoulder blades. Struggling to keep my composure, I turned my attention to my surroundings.
The airport’s modern architecture had a series of skylights and light from the rising sun poured in, forming a natural spotlight on the wide diversity of people around me. There were tourists from Europe and the US, along with Africans and Asians. I stood alone in the crowd swirling around me, utterly lost.
I wanted to cry. To sink to my knees and beg for help. Instead I found my way to an airport café and collapsed into a chair with some coffee and water. The cashier had taken the US money I’d offered with such open pleasure, I wondered--but didn’t care--if I’d overpaid.
Pulling out the cell phone Frankie had given me, I debated who to call. Lilli seemed to be the obvious choice, but when I dialed her number, I got an error message in a language I didn’t understand. Shaking my head, I hung up and tried again, and then again, but none of my calls went through.
Frustrated, I set the phone on the cafe table and sipped my coffee. Its strong bitterness simmered in my stomach, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in a long time. Just as I contemplated buying one of the pastries in the cafe’s display case, the phone gave a little beep, announcing the receipt of a text message. I frowned as I read it.
Local calls only, sweetheart.
I scanned the airport trying to spot Frankie and Clark, but only saw strangers in a strange land. Wherever their perch was, it was well hidden from me.
With a sigh, I finished my coffee and chugged the water, hoping that, between the caffeine and the hydration, I would begin feeling human again. A lingering drug fog clouded my mind, making my thoughts sluggish. My body was stiff and slow. I needed sleep more than anything, but, until a bed presented itself, I would rely on caffeine to see me through.
“Ruby,” said a deep voice I’d last heard in my dreams.
“Blake.” I tipped my head back to see him standing there with a happy smile on his face. He wore a white button down shirt and beige slacks made of pressed linen. Sunglasses hid his eyes and his dark hair curled around his face. He was handsome as ever, the same man I’d spent months mooning over while we toured with the Cirque D’Amour. However, I now found myself of two minds when it came to the magician Blake Cannon.
I wanted to kiss him. I remembered the feel of his mouth on mine, the heat of his body covering me, the way he’d made me come over and over.
I wanted to slap him. For leaving me. For crossing a mobster like Frankie. For being someone I couldn’t trust. Most of all, I wanted to hurt Blake because I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
“You came.” He took off his sunglasses and those crystal blue eyes seemed to stare right through me.
“I-I...” I fought not to tell him the truth. It wasn’t safe. Not yet. So I plastered a smile on my face and didn’t look him in the eye. “Yes, I did.”
“I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“I almost didn’t,” I said truthfully.
“Well, I’m glad you did.” He looked at the ground by my table and his brow furrowed. “Where’s your luggage? I’ll carry it for you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have any.”
That gave him pause. “You didn’t pack anything?”
“It’s lost.” I resisted the urge to wince at the lie. I would be telling him whoppers bigger than this soon. Might as well get used to it. “They sent it to Alaska.”
Blake eyes widened. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
I just shrugged. He didn’t know the half of it.
“You want to pick up something here?” He nodded to the row of shops behind us.
Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t think they’ll have my size.” I’d given the t-shirts in the window a passing glance on my way to the cafe and I hadn’t seen anything close to big enough for me.
Blake pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Hmm. I guess I can take you to a few stores tomorrow. Would that work?”
“Yes, that would be great. Thanks.” I gave him a tight smile.
He held out his hand. “I can’t wait to show you Casablanca.”
I stood, slipping my hand into his. “I can’t wait to see it.” It was true, too. There was no way I was going to miss out on Morocco. Given my budget constraints, being kidnapped really was the only way I could afford a trip like this. I was determined to find some way to enjoy what I could.
He gave my hand a squeeze and started to lead me away, but I resisted. “Hey, before we go, is there any chance I could call Lilli really quick? I left without telling her and I can’t seem to get calls to go through on my phone.”
“Your phone probably won’t work here, but mine can make overseas calls.” He handed me his cell phone and waited while I dialed Lilli’s number.
She didn’t pick up and I quickly debated what kind of message to leave her. When the beep came, I settled on, “Hey, Lilli, I had to go out of town unexpectedly. Sorry to leave you in the lurch, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
Hanging up, I returned the cell phone to Blake. I would have preferred to talk to Lilli in real time, but there was nothing to do but hope she listened to my message. Lilli didn’t like phones and had a bad habit of deleting voicemails unheard.
“All set?” Blake asked.
At my nod, he linked his hand with mine again and guided me toward the airport’s exit. Outside, Blake hailed a taxi and soon we were hurtling through the streets of Casablanca. I stared in wonder at the bright white buildings accented with flashes of royal blue. Buildings featured beautiful arches and some had rounded domes that ended in sharp points. Mosaics were everywhere, swirling with color. The landscape was so different from any place I’d ever been, both alien and beautiful at the same time.
“Where are we going?” I watched a bus lumber past our taxi, packed to the gills with people. While I saw some men in suits or pants and dress shirts, a lot of people wore long flowing robes. The women were a mix of conservative Muslims in black robes with their faces completely covered and those who were a little less conservative, merely covering their hair with a scarf. A few women had a more Western
look; completely uncovered and made-up with well coiffed hair.
“I’ve rented a Riad on the outskirts of town.”
“A what?” I turned to look at him.
“A private guest house. I need the privacy.” He took my hand in his and squeezed. “I’m working on a new trick for the Sahara Magic Competition.”
“Oh? Is that why you asked me to come?” I asked, curious to finally hear why he would’ve invited me to Morocco in the first place.
“Yes, I need an assistant and you have the right skill set.”
“Oh, cool,” I murmured with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. I felt deflated. Deep down I’d hoped to hear another answer. Of course, we didn’t know each other well enough for grand gestures of love. I knew I was being silly. Knew Blake wasn’t a good idea, not anymore, but that didn’t stop me from wanting him.
“In particular, I need someone who knows burlesque.” He went on to discuss the trick he had planned in extensive detail.
I half listened, nodding every so often so it looked like I was paying attention. I was too tired to really focus on anything other than feeling used by both Blake and Frankie.
Chapter Nine
The Riad was a beautiful white stucco house with ornate arches located in a quiet neighborhood in the hills high above the city. I could see Casablanca sprawled out like an urban carpet below, and, in the far distance, the gleam of the sun on the ocean.
Blake gave me a quick tour of the main living area on the first floor. There was a large foyer where I left my purse. Straight ahead was an airy living room, which contained a fireplace framed by a beautiful abstract tile mural. Sliding glass doors led out to a patio. The dining room held a heavy wood table, big enough to seat eight. An ornate flower arrangement sat in the table’s center. We could only poke our heads into the kitchen because the cook was there, busy making dinner. Apparently, the Riad came with staff.
“I feel like I’m on a Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous tour,” I said as Blake led me upstairs. The house had been tastefully decorated with what looked like Moroccan art. The furniture all appeared new and high end, certainly way above my pay grade.
